


Sweet Killer Smile

by BookNerdie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 23:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12922395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookNerdie/pseuds/BookNerdie
Summary: They meet i a seedy pub halfway acorss the world and for one night everything they are is forgotten. They should have known it is never that simple.





	Sweet Killer Smile

Jamie Arya

He looks at the body on the floor and he almost close his eyes, just his father voice in his head stops him. He doesn’t run out of there but if he could have he would have. The streets of Braavos seems to go one forever before he makes it back to the hotel. But instead of staying there he finds himself wandering the streets of Braavos with nowhere to go. Just walking and walking, like he is trying to escape from something haunting him. Except there is no escape, he will forever be haunted by the things he has done and the people he has harmed. He does not really think about where he is going until he sits down by a bar counter and there is a glass of vodka in front of him. The alcohol burns on the way down and he welcomes it. Welcomes feeling anything then self-loathing.

Jaime was 10 the first time his father put a gun in his hand and thought him how to use it. He remembers the feeling the first time he had hit the target like it was yesterday. He also remembers the feeling the first time he hit something else than a target. The first time he hit the target his father’s proud smile made him happy, it made him feel like he was worth something, the first time he hit a person he also remembers his father’s proud and arrogant smile but that time it made him nauseas, it made him feel like scum. He hates how good he is at it. 

He’s had a particularly horrible day, good days don’t really exist in his line of work, but this day was particularly bad. Braavos seems to be far enough away from home that no one seems to recognize him or maybe it’s that most men sitting here are criminals as well. It seems unfair that he never got to choose what he wanted to do with his life. He’s not sure what he would have wanted to do but he knows he would never have picked this. The door to the bar opens and a shiver of light enters along with a girl, women? He can’t determine her age from the distance, but she sits down three chairs from him at the bar and signals the bartender, he seems to know her since he just pours a glass of whiskey without asking anything. She spins the glass in her hand before taking a sip, she chews on her lip for a moment before she seems to catch herself. Her hand twitches on the counter and he wonder why. It’s the same twitch his does when he wants to punch someone, but it makes no sense for the twitch her own hand made. She must sense his eyes on her because she turns her head and for a moment they just look at each other, two strangers in a bar. He can see the expensive jacket and jeans she wears, knows that she does not really belong her, this is not where she goes because its cheap and she can’t afford something else. No, she is here for the same reason he is, hiding. It must have looked comically for anyone watching the pair because at the same time their eyes widen and a flicker of fear and anger filter over their faces but most of all there is something tiered about them both. Jaime can see the exhaustion on her face just as he can feel it inside himself. They both turn away. Ignoring the other’s presence. But both agreeing to not do anything. A Lannister and a Stark walk into bar and sit down next to each other, it sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke, but it’s not, it’s their fucking lives.

Somewhere around one a ’clock they find themselves sitting next to each other, no words have been spoken. It’s like there is pull between them, closing the distance like there is no other choice than to sit next to each other. There is something inside of him that wants to cry out when she stands up but when she comes back with a pool queue in each hand and reaches one out towards him he can’t help but relax and he can even feel the twitching of his lips. She is good, almost as good as he is, but then he is also sure that she has had more to drink then him even if she hides it well. Somewhere along the game he finds himself standing behind her, helping her take her shot and she aloes him. She is quite small but he can clearly see her curves, her ass is pure muscle and her breasts are not huge but on her small frame they look quite big. He can also see the muscles of her arms twitching as he places his hands on her hips and leans his head close to hers. Still not a single word has been spoken.

He pushes her up against a wall, his mouth rough against hers, but she does not seem to mind at all, in fact she seems quite happy with the situation if he judges based on her moans. She unlocks the door and he follows her in. The apartment is small but nice, but he does not dwell on it. He does not even dwell on the fact that she seems so sure they are safe here. Her body seems to fit against his just perfect. He wishes he could pause time, that this moment could last forever. They pull apart and stare at each other, when he first saw her, and every time he has seen her before tonight, not many but still, he has never doubted what was spoken of her. That she was more suited for this life than any of her siblings, that she was as cold as ice and more like her uncle Brandon, brash and fast acting, remorseless. But now as he looks at her, really looks at her, he wonders how ever could believe that. She bites her lip again and just like before she seems to catch herself and something about it makes her angry. Before she can do anything, he closes the distance between them and kisses her before he takes her bottom lip and bites it gently, and then soothing it with his tongue.

As the suns rises they sit on the balcony, blankets covering their bodies, her back against his front. His lips on her neck while she traces scars on his hands and arms.

“My plane leaves for Winterfell soon.” Her voice is everything that exits while she speaks, he wonders he really hears the sad notes in it or if he is just telling himself that they are there.

“I know.” His voice is raspy, and his answers has nothing to do with her statement, just as her statement has less to do with her leaving to go back to the north and more with saying she is going and that whatever this has been it can’t go on. But she doesn’t seem to be able to make herself move from her position, her head hides in his arms and he holds her close. He makes the decision for her and helps her stand. No numbers are exchanged. No promises to stay in touch or see you again. This is not one of those stories.

Two months pass before he sees her again. And he is wrong, it is one of those stories, it is a story of two people who can’t help themselves. But he is also right because it is not a story of happiness and happy endings. He watches her as she dresses herself, he never got around to disposing his clothes, but he was very adamant about removing hers. The bathroom is cold and sterile, and this is not where they should be, in a perfect world. But theirs is not a perfect world, far from. When she looks at him there is something sad about her eyes and he wonders why. He finds out later. Not from her lips but from his fathers. The war between them has been stepped up and Lancel Lannister was killed to send a message. Killed by a girl he spent the afternoon fucking in a restaurant bathroom. He stands still for what seems like hours, time frozen. Tyrion seems bemused by his actions, if he is truthful so is he, he knows he should stay away from her, knows that it is a terrible idea. But he can’t regret it. It is Joffrey and he goons that make it even worse. That does something that can’t be changed, that will change everything.

Robb is crowned leader and he spends the night with Arya in an apartment outside King’s Landing. He traces the scars on her body and she watch as his fingers trail all over her. Her voice is soft as she speaks and there is something beautifully sad about it. Her fingers trail over a long cut on her torso.

“She was hired to kill the man I loved, not to touch me except I arrived to early and she wasn’t about to let me kill. My parents hired her.” He strokes her check, her voice is a bit chocked up but there are no tears in her eyes or on her face.

“He had many secrets some I don’t even know of, but some nobody but me do. But he left me ways to escape. Places that can’t be traced to him and not to me. Safe hiding spots. My family was afraid, they thought I might leave, I would never have done so. But I don’t know if I can ever truly forgive them. But it does not matter.”

He knows. Knows that feeling when you will sacrifice everything for the family, regardless of what they take from you. He thinks of blue eyes and straw blond hair. He asks for forgiveness, knows it will never be given, but still he never considered leaving, not even for her.

Her mother and oldest brother fall victims to his father. She never blames him, but he can see the hate hiding in her eyes. He can see that something changed that day. Tywin Lannister thinks he has won. Sansa Stark to gentle to rule her family’s business. The younger brothers too young, Jon not a true Stark. He never considers Arya Stark. Never sees her like the threat she is. He knows she is ruthless, know she is a killer. But he does not consider if she can lead. Does not see her for who she is, and that is his mistake and her plan all along. The family’s that follow the Stark does not hesitate to follow Ned Starks daughter that is a Stark in every sense of the word. Jaime remembers reading about the old kings of Winter that ruled the north in the beginning of time and he wonders if they were reborn in her.

Joffrey and Cersei are next. Tyrion does her the favour of taking out his own father, Jaime wonders if there is something wrong with him since he can’t bring himself to hate either of them. They still hide in an old apartment, hands moving over each other, mouths devouring, like they are afraid that time will run out. And maybe it will. Time has always been their enemy. At one-point time will run away from them, at some point they can’t fight it anymore. They never say the words. He feels it and she knows she does as well. But saying it makes it real. Saying it means that they can’t go back, it means the fight is over. Not saying it, is seems safer. Like until they say it they can pretend it’s not there. There is an elephant in the middle of the room and neither of them can point it out. It’s not a game of roses they play, no it’s a game of thrones. A game that you win, or you die playing. And neither plan on dying.

Her fingers stroke his hair back from his face and he close his eyes and for just a moment he imagines that this was it. That there is no outside world and there is nothing keeping them apart, how he wishes he could speak of it but they don’t speak of it. The words are forbidden, it is to painful and it will never be real. This is not some happy story where everything will work out and love will triumph. He thinks of Romeo and Juliet and how they were willing to die for their love and he almost wishes he and Arya were as well. But this has never been about death, it is a fight for survival and they are both to stubborn to give up. They are both playing to win because the alternative is not an option, has never been.

“Father would sit for hours with me and try to make the letters make sense, it worked in the end, to an extent. But we were always a disappointment on some level. I think you would have made him proud. He would not have minded you to take over his legacy.” There is an anger hidden underneath the words. Because Tywin Lannister would have not been embarrassed to let Arya take the stage after him. But none of his children never were enough.

Rickon Stark is killed, not by his hand, not by his orders, but for him none the less. Arya never says anything, but she pounds her fists against his chest and he lets her. He was young, a child that did not deserved this life, nor this death. He knows that this is something that can never be retracted. Arya protects those who need it, she fights for those who cannot, and her baby brother was killed. Was taken from her. She manages to contract the Arryn’s to her side. Littlefinger dies and Robert Arryn is not able to resist his cousins power and allure. Nor does he know who killed his protector. Bran and Sansa Stark disappear, and no one knows where Arya has hidden her remaining family. All they know is that she is not one to forgive and not one to give the benefit of the doubt. Jaime is proved right when Sansa Tyrell appear on the side of Willas Tyrell, heir to the Tyrell fortune and family. And Arya Stark has another family behind her, because somehow, they all follow her. He hears his men whisper of her, wondering how someone who is barley a woman could make powerful men bend to her will. Jaime knows. Knows that Arya is not to be underestimated, knows that she could make kings follow her if she put her mind to it. Knows that he is fighting a losing battle, but he can’t surrender, it’s not in him to do so, it’s not how he was raised. Arya Stark is a one women army, more dangerous than anyone could imagine. She is a blade forged in the blaring ovens of the underground world. Her claws are as sharps as a direwolfs and her teeth are sharper than a lion’s. She is what the world has made her, but he wonders what could have been of her had the world been kinder.

He rests his head on her chest and focuses on her breathing, his hand clasping hers while her other is tangled in his hair. Silence surrounds them as the suns slowly rises over the horizon. He closes his eyes and sends a prayer to gods he doesn’t believe in. He wishes time would stay still, that this single moment would stretch on forever, never ending. The wishes that was nothing else than the two of them inside here. That this was the entire world.

He remembers the last time he cried, it was years and years ago and he is sure the same goes for Arya, when one lives in this world one can’t let yourself feel too much, it will kill you. The last time he cried he was a child not quite understanding the world he had been born into yet. Not understanding what life he would lead and the his life would never be about him but about the Lannister legacy. He feels her hand on his cheek wiping away something before he understands what it is. Only when he looks up and meets her eyes and sees the tears on her face does he understand. It has been so long since he cried he almost forgot he could do it. They sit naked on their knees on the bed, embracing each other, crying more than they ever has. They always knew it would go like this, how could it not? There was never any other ending than pain and hurt, there was never any other path than one with death and nightmares that they could walk. They knew it all along. But somehow it stills hurts more than he can bear. How can something you know would happened all along hurt like this? How come a pain you were prepared for could still hurt this much? When they walk away that day, when they leave the apartment and each other that day it is knowing that this must end. It hurts too much. There is no other ending than one filled with pain.

He outdrinks Tyrion that night. He spends the next weeks more ruthless than ever before and so does the Starks. He knows that this is their way of realising the pain they hold inside, the only way they can, they were only ever though pain and death, they were tough how to bring hurt and destruction, never how to forgive and care for. They were raised to bring doom and not to heal. It’s not fair.

The next time he sees Arya Stark is in a picture one of his men took. She is surrounded by guards, he can’t help but think that she is a better killer than any of the men the surrounds her. They were raised to be unfeeling, to never hesitate. They were raised to be monsters in the dark, masters scheming and bringing down enemies. They were born in the underworlds shadows, born to hate each other. Born to destroy each other. In some ways, he can’t help but think, they destroyed each other way worse than their families could ever had hoped that they would. The broke each other. They could not break the wheel. They did not want to. They wanted to rule the wheel. They wanted to win the game.

Arya had been twelve when she started figuring out what it was her family did. Arya didn’t give it much of a thought. Her family was still her family. No matter what they did, that would always be true. She was sixteen when she met a man who she fell in love with. Most assumed it was her family that had been responsible for her training, but it had been him. Him who thought she needed to be able to defend herself (and so much more). Her family takes him from her and she never tells that she knows. She plays their game but by her own rules. She gets involved and there is nothing they can do to stop her. She learns to control her face like the best of them and she learns to tells lies that could have fooled Tywin Lannister himself. She learns to lead, not because she must but because there is no choice. In her world, one must prepare for every possible outcome.

She meets Jaime Lannister when she is twenty and if she believed in goods she would believe that they had cursed to two of them. There is nothing fair and pretty about the two of them. They have both walked through mud and gritted their teeth as they did the dirty work of their family. There are no promises between them. No words of protection and taking it easy. No, they have been raised better than that. In their world family is everything and their enemies are each other. They know it. They can’t stay away from each other.

Arya loves the feeling of holding a gun in her hand. It makes her feel powerful. It makes her the most powerful in a room full of men bigger than her. Arya loves her mind. It makes her smarter than the rest of them. It makes the game Candyland and not Monopoly. Even though there is no chance of the dice in the game Arya plays. No, she plays to win, and she has all along. Ever since she sat on the floor covered in blood cradling the head of the man she loved in her lap. Arya was seventeen the first time she took a life and she though it would make her feel powerful. But all it did was make her feel empty. She is twenty-one the first time she kills for revenge and she thought it would make her feel better, but it does not. She lies in the night in the arms of Jaime Lannister and she know come tomorrow she will kill some of the people he loves. She knows he would have every right to hate her and she hates herself for hoping he won’t.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing


End file.
